


no other shade of blue (but you)

by strawberryblonde (Parklife14)



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Clown To Clown Courtship, Coming Out, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Gay Zuko (Avatar), Love Is Stored In The Domesticity, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:41:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28120071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parklife14/pseuds/strawberryblonde
Summary: Sokka abruptly pauses in his steps and turns back to Zuko. “Okay so here's the problem - everyone thinks we’re clowns because we allegedly got hitched at a joint Taco Bell slash wedding chapel,”“You mean we did get hitched at a Taco Bell joint slash wedding chapel...”“Not helping,” Sokka clips, “and what I’m trying to say is it would look worse if we came back, post annulment and look even more like idiots.”Okay you’ve completely lost me now...”Sokka moves to sit on the bed. “What I’m trying to say is...what if we just stayed married?”“I--What?”Or:After a night of complete clownery, Sokka and Zuko end up very married and very hungover.To make matters worse, they hatch a scheme of a fake relationship in order to avoid the embarrassment from their friends and family.Except the further they fall into it, Sokka soon realises that maybe loving Zuko is one of the easiest things he can do.A story about mood rings and the people who wear them.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Suki/Yue (Avatar)
Comments: 126
Kudos: 402





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Take a shot everytime I reference a Mitski song in a chapter. 
> 
> This au also comes from a very self indulgent place where covid isn't a thing and zukka is canon.

The first thing Sokka notices when he wakes up is the feeling of an explosion going on inside his head. 

It’s not uncommon for him to feel like this - hell he’s in his mid-twenties, and the days where he could chug endless Fireball and Bacardi shots and still attend a 9am engineering lecture are over. 

So he should be used to this by now - but the cracking headache and the layer of dehydrated saliva that coats his cracked lips tell him that this hangover is one for the history books. Great. 

He opens his eyes slowly, squinting as the Nevada sun prickles into his hotel room and directly into his line of sight. The cool feeling of the bed sheets run through his body, offering up only a brief moment of bliss. However, he can’t help but notice the weird sticky sensation that’s clung itself to his body. 

He knows he should examine it, but instead he closes his eyes again and revels in the self deprecation he’s come to associate with mornings like these. He silently prays for the slow release of death. 

He attempts to go back to sleep, but the fidgeting sensation coming from the right side of the bed brings him back to his senses. 

It would be a lie to say Sokka is a complete stranger to having a one night stand. It had become a routine for him during his night outs at college where he would meet a cool girl, spend the night together, and then both go on their merry way. He was used to awkward morning afters - when the hormones from the previous night has subsided and all that is left is awkward small talk and polite offers of tea and coffee. 

So it’s only natural for him to think, he’s somehow got himself in a similar situation while in Las Vegas - the very place for debauchery and meaningless one night stands. 

The only thing different here is the snoring sounds coming from the fidgeting figure doesn’t exactly sound _female_ and that is something he _definitely_ wasn’t used to in his past alcohol-fueled escapades. 

He searches his brain for the possible memories that lead up to this point. He remembers booking a last minute surprise vacation for Zuko as a celebration present after he graduated with honours in his masters degree of english literature and theatre studies. He remembers waving the tickets in his face, with the proclamations of “VIVA, LAS VEGAS!!” while Zuko just stood there, looking unimpressed but nonchalantly taking a ticket. 

However, he also didn’t predict booking a flight in the midst of America’s most cut throat election. 

He remembers checking his phone for updates about the election on the way to the airport. The only substance in his system being cheap, black coffee and the hopes of America’s last shred of democracy battling through. Of course, he directly chose the state that was going to decide the future of American politics and the source for his unbridled anxiety - as a place of celebration for his best friend. 

He remembers getting off the plane, the humid air hitting his skin while he immediately tried to get a signal for his phone and see if Nevada had voted for a fascist. 

That’s when he saw it. 

_Nevada went blue._

The rest of the night became a blur. He remembers Pina Coladas - and shots. Way too many shots. He remembers crying “WE LIVE IN A DEMOCRACY!” in between each shot taken.

He remembers wandering hands on a dance floor, running up and down his body with such vigour it sent electrical currents through his body, as the stranger pulls their bodies closer to create delicious friction between them. The feeling of hot breath and teeth gliding across his throat and in that moment he feels completely euphoric. 

His memories come up black after that. 

He turns his head slowly to the figure beside him - and even with the slow pace, the sensation of post-drunken disorientation hits him. 

Except it isn’t from the brutal hangover; but from the very familiar dark hair sprawled out against the white hotel sheets like black ink against a titled piece of parchment. 

“Zuko?” his voice sounding like cheap sandpaper from his dehydrated mouth. 

It seems like his voice completely reanimates Zuko from his current state, because immediately Zuko turns with such force it nearly triggers Sokka’s vertigo. 

His eyes widen at an alarming pace. “What the fuck?” His voice, gravelly and thick.  
  
Sokka notices how Zuko’s hair is sticking up at alarming angles; like someone had spent the night running their hands enthusiastically through his hair. 

He feels the nausea in his stomach at the very likelihood of those hands belonging to him. 

“What are you doing here?” Zuko repeats, scooting further away from him with such force he nearly falls out of their bed. 

_Their bed._

Shut the fuck up brain, Sokka subconsciously tells himself. 

“Well, if you don’t remember - I’ll remind you that your very generous best friend, Sokka Amarok, happened to book Las Vegas as a celebration present for graduating your masters--” 

“I know why we’re here.” Zuko says, “What I meant was what are you doing here in my hotel room!” 

And it really is Zuko’s hotel room because the longer he’s awake, the quicker he comes to his senses and notices all of the little quirks and trinkets, that make up Zuko’s personality, scattered across the hotel floor. 

Sokka feels a pounding in his chest. 

“Okay-okay - first rule before we continue this conversation, is that we’re gonna whisper because my brain right now feels like a rotten corpse,”

“Sokka.” 

“I don’t know, okay! I just woke up and noticed you sleeping here and I haven’t checked if we…” 

Zuko’s eyes widen as the revelation dawns on him. “We didn’t-- we couldn’t have--” 

“I don’t want to alarm you...but I can feel a breeze, where I definitely _shouldn’t_ feel a breeze…”

“-You - you probably just threw your clothes off before getting into my bed-”

“Then why are you also not wearing clothes right now?” says Sokka, gesturing to Zuko’s bare chest. 

It should be comical the way Zuko looks down and back up, like he’s a feature in a Looney Tunes special. But instead it just looks pitiful, the way he looks back up at Sokka with the fear of God in his eyes. 

“Oh fuck.” 

“Yeah,” says Sokka, “fuck _indeed.”_

If looks could kill, Sokka would definitely be a corpse on the floor with the look Zuko sends his way. 

An awkward pause passes between them. Zuko stares off into the distance like he hopes the answers to their predicament lies in the hotel’s cheap wall decor. 

After a few more moments, Sokka clears his throat. “Look, we can’t sit in this bed and avoid this forever.” 

“I think you underestimate me.” 

“Zuko,” Sokka says firmly, shuffling closer to his friend. “All I’m saying is, we’re gonna to have to rip the band aid off, so why not do it together?” 

There’s another brief moment, before Zuko closes his eyes and begins to evenly breathe out of nose and Sokka has been around him long enough to know the meditation techniques Zuko’s therapist taught him when life starts feeling out of his control. 

“Okay fine. We’ll do it together.”

“That’s the spirit!” Sokka lightly pats him on the shoulder. “Okay - so after three okay?”

Zuko nods evenly, both of them gripping the ends of their side of the duvet, as they begin to countdown in unison: 

_“One - Two - Three--”_

The entire bed sheets completely leave their bodies and flies across the hotel room. Sokka is left with a cooling sensation as the cold air meets his body. He looks down to meet his demise and instead sees blue boxers fill his view. He looks over at Zuko, and while he flushes at the stain of purplish bruises across his neck and chest, he also notices the presence of red Calvin Klein briefs between his thighs. 

Zuko lets out a hearty breath and falls back into the mattress. 

“Crisis averted,” says Sokka, also content in the revelation he didn’t fuck his best friend in a drunken haze. He turns towards Zuko in the hopes of giving him a we-didn’t-have-sex congraluatory high five, but he notices the brown sticky substance on his friend and lowers his hand. 

“Hey is that barbeque sauce on your chest?” 

Zuko looks down, cringing slightly but also completely exhausted from their previous predicament to actually care. “God, I hope so…” 

Sokka reaches out a hand to examine the mysterious concoction himself, ignoring the flush he can feel creep up onto his face at the very likely possibility of them having sex combined with the close proximity of Zuko’s toned chest. 

Zuko seems to notice this because he takes Sokka’s hand in his own. “Why are you wearing a mood ring?” 

Sokka furrows his brow, as he also notices the mood ring on Zuko’s ring finger. “I could ask you the same thing,” Noticing the bright amber shine from the ring that paralleled the intensity of Zuko’s own eyes. “what part of the night did we pick up matching mood rings?” 

Zuko shrugs his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter, we’ve done stupider things while drunk,” and well, Sokka can’t deny that. “can we just get out of bed now that we definitely know we didn’t fuck?” 

Zuko begins to leave the bed, but not before the effects of last night come back to bite him, as he lets out a sharp pain and begins to cradle his forehead between his fingers. 

Sokka couldn’t help but return his focus back on the ring. It seems familiar to him - like he could see it in his mind but the wave of drunken smoke surrounding it makes it seem further away, the longer he examines it. 

The pinging noise from his phone brings him back to the hotel room. 

He looks around and notices it lying haphazardly on a coffee table - right next to a half eaten mouldy burrito. 

He turns his face in disgust. Guess that’s where the barbeque sauce came from. 

He made a mental note to make fun of Zuko for his choice of combining weird condiments with Mexican food later. He swiped his finger across his phone to unlock it. 

_Oh._

_Oh no._

_62 missed calls._

_25 missed calls from Katara._

_20 missed calls from his Dad and Bato._

_1_ _0 missed calls from Aang._

_6 missed calls from Suki and Yue._

_And 1 missed call from Toph, including a voice message._

He clicks the play button on Toph and lets it play, he can feel his heart trying to leave his chest. 

Toph’s diluted voice fills the room. 

“ _My deepest congratulations to you Snoozles! I know you’ll make an honest man out of Sparky yet! Also p.s I’m pretty sure you’ve both given Sweetness a brain aneurysm with your dumbassery - so I’d recommend staying in Nevada for your extended honeymoon for a while, see ya!”_

Sokka could feel his stomach drop out of his ass. 

“Did-did Toph just say honeymoon?” says Zuko. 

Sokka just ignores him and turns back to his phone. He opens up his instagram account and- alarmingly- sees that he’s updated his instagram story (something he only ever does to give his close friends birthday shout outs). 

His hands are shaking as he clicks on the story and a video begins to play of him. Blinding lights and tacky decor of a Las Vegas dancefloor fill the screen in a first person shot. 

His eyes widen as his drunken self enters the video, in all of his blood-shot eyes and lopsided grin glory. He watches on in horror as he seems to be showing off the cheap mood ring on his finger - a deep purple blending with the hickey present on his neck. 

He taps the story again and immediately he feels his stomach lurch, because now the point of view shot has moved to a third person. Zuko was now in the video with him, their full bodies on display in a nightclub - except they weren’t dancing or talking like they usually do - 

No instead they were furiously making out with each other. 

Sokka can’t look away; it was like watching an on going car crash, as he watches the video version of himself moving his mouth in a rhythm with video Zuko. His hand disappeared up the front of Zuko’s shirt, while Zuko’s hands were pressed down onto the sides of his hips. He couldn’t help but notice the sheer amount of want that appeared in Zuko’s touch that came through the video. 

It appeared the drunken version of himself noticed too, because as soon as Zuko visibility rolled his hips against Sokka’s, he released an embarrassingly loud moan that was enough for the phone’s speakers to pick up on and fill the hotel room. 

“--What the hell Sokka are you watching porn?” Zuko cries out. 

Sokka doesn’t even respond and throws the phone to his side. “Just watch- watch that.” He says ominously. 

Zuko takes the phone and watches the contents of the video. Sokka visibility cringes when he hears his dreaded moaning again. And then the video stops.

He expects Zuko to lose it. To go ball-to-the wall insane and just start screaming bloody murder. Instead he’s completely silent while an unreadable expression appears on his face. 

Sokka can’t take the silence any longer. “How are you not freaking out right now?” He hates how panicked he sounds. In all of the times of their friendship, it was always Sokka who kept a level head while Zuko was the one to lose his shit; so the sudden role reversal is just furthering the disorientation brought on by his hangover. 

Zuko looks at him and shrugs. _He fucking shrugs._

“I mean, it’s not like we haven’t made out before--” 

“--Me wanting to practise kissing before a first date back in college-- isn’t the same as having your tongue down my throat for the whole world to see!” He throws himself back onto the empty duvet, ignoring the pain that shoots through his head. “This can’t get any worse.”

“Sokka what the ever loving fuck is this?” Zuko cries, launching the phone back to his side. 

Apparently it can. 

He opens his eyes to see the source of Zuko’s delayed freakout. He picks up his phone and looks down. It’s on his instagram account and immediately his nausea comes back with full force. 

It’s a picture of him and Zuko in all of their drunken stupor - his hand is under Zuko’s thigh, while Zuko had awkwardly wrapped his leg around Sokka’s front. They appeared to be in the middle of a heated kiss, while his other hand was shoved into the camera for the whole world to see the cheap looking mood ring. 

That’s when he notices the cheap looking decor and the fluorescent lights which just said: _Wedding Bells Chapel._

He scrolls down again to see the caption of the post. It said, “Jurzt Maried!!!” followed by an obnoxious amount of different heart and ring emojis. 

Sokka throws his phone across the room and It seems the gravity of the situation finally hits him, because Zuko immediately starts pacing back and forth across the hotel room, muttering to himself. “This isn’t happening, this isn’t real, this can’t be happening.” 

“I think i’m gonna throw up.” Sokka says, and it’s like his body was ready for the confirmation - because as soon as the words leave his mouth, the lurch in his stomach becomes too much and he’s running to the ensuite bathroom to do exactly that. 

And once he’s sure he has thrown up his entire stomach - he can’t help but notice how the heavy sunlight reflects the mood ring on his finger. An intense black shined back. 

It seemed Zuko was right. They had done stupider things drunk. 

Except, none of them included _getting fucking married._

* * *

“Look, just because I made a dumb instagram post doesn’t confirm anything- ” 

Some time had passed since their initial meltdown. Sokka had splashed cold water on his face in the hopes it might wake him up from this nightmare. Meanwhile, Zuko had gotten himself dressed and had his fingers through his hair in order for it to fall back into its usual shaggy style. 

Zuko throws his own phone in Sokka’s direction. “Azula texted me.” He says evenly. 

“Your sister?” Sokka says and he enters in Zuko's password and he sees Azula's name pop up in the notification bar. “but she never texts you.”

He reads the messages quickly and they scream in typical Azula fashion, he can hear her voice through the messages which consist of faux congratulations to him and Zuko. 

**Azula**

**Today 7:30**

_Congratulations Zuzu. I always knew you were the problem child of the family, still, it’s nice to get some physical confirmation every once in a while to remind myself I’m better than you._

**_Today 7:34_ **

_Also I’d say congratulations to you and your boy toy, but I’d have to look up his name and I’d actually have to care to do that, so..._

**_Today 8:00_ **

_Also I think you should know that I’m never going to let this go Zuzu. This is the most embarrassing thing you could have done, and by proxy it's my God given right to lord this over you for the rest of your life. We’ll be in touch soon._

Sokka scrunches his nose up and throws the phone back to Zuko. “Your sister’s crazy man.”

Zuko scoffs. “She’s technically _your_ sister now too.”

“Okay, for my mental wellbeing, I’m gonna need you to never repeat those words again.” 

“Sokka you’re missing the point,” Sokka notes he’s never heard Zuko’s voice sound so serious before. “The point being, Azula, _who never texts me,_ texted me congratulating us on our wedding - which means that a lot people must think this is very _fucking real.”_

“There-There’s no way it’s real,” He says, releasing a breathless laugh and shaking his head vehemently. “I mean - even if we did, which we didn’t. We don’t even have any real proof we got married last night.” 

“I found this while going through your jeans.” 

Zuko throws him a crushed up piece of paper, which he takes and quickly uncrumples.

Sokka’s brows knit in confusion. “This is a receipt for Taco Bell?” 

“The one on the back you idiot!” 

He turns the receipt over and that’s when he sees it. There in big, bold letters so that he can’t miss it: 

**The Neon Bell Chapel.**

**Las Vegas Marriage Bureau**

**1 Standard Sign & Go Package**

**$39.00**

**2.30AM**

Sokka can feel the pit in his stomach physically drop from this. 

“This- This has to be fake - I mean what Taco Bell also has a wedding chapel?” He says, the hand holding the piece of paper beginning to shake. 

“Sokka we’re in Vegas - if any random place has a wedding licence it's going to be here!” Zuko presses his forefingers to the bridge of his nose indicating that he’s at his absolute wit’s end. “what are we going to do?” 

Sokka starts pacing across the room, racking his brain with such speed in the hopes to find any possible solution to their problems - while also trying to avoid the realisation that a very likely part of him wanted to marry his best friend. Nope. Nope. He definitely couldn’t think of that right now. 

“Okay, so this is the issue at hand…” Sokka says, striding and turning so manically across the room, he now just looks like the living embodiment of an overactive fly repeatedly hitting itself against some glass. 

“Sokka, please stand still- you’re giving me motion sickness.” 

Sokka abruptly pauses in his steps and turns back to Zuko. “Everyone thinks we’re clowns because we allegedly got hitched at a joint Taco Bell slash wedding chapel,” 

“You mean _we did_ get hitched at a Taco Bell joint slash wedding chapel...” 

“Not helping,” Sokka clips, gesturing his hands in the same way he would during his engineering seminar. “So it’s like that quote people say, how the best decision to take is one filled with adversity --”

"And you did not just quote Shakespeare in relation to our sham wedding.”

“Would it kill you not to be a theatre nerd for five seconds?” Sokka says, continuing to gesture wildly, “And what I’m trying to say is it would look worse if we came back, post annulment and look _even more_ like idiots.” 

Zuko furrows his brows. “Okay you’ve completely lost me now...” 

Sokka moves to sit on the bed. “What I’m trying to say is...what if we just stayed married?” 

“I--What?” 

“Zuko, if there’s one thing I know it’s that when you find yourself in a bad situation you just scheme your way through; until it works out itself.” 

“Are you still drunk or something?” 

Sokka ignores him and continues gesturing with his hands. “Look, here’s what we’ll do- we’ll just paint this story, about how we were in a secret relationship and in our drunken loved up haze, we ended up rushing into things and then boom! Marriage!” 

“So, your plan is for us to remain married for the rest of our lives?” 

“ _What_ -no-no we’ll just stay married for a year tops and when then this all blows over, we’ll get a divorce, etc etc and become the the greatest divorced friends in history.” 

“You want me to stay married to you for a year?” Zuko asks, his voice sounding like he was tasting something unpleasant. 

“Hey I resent that! For your information, I have nothing but glowing compliments from all my exes.”

“All of your exes ended up being lesbians and are now dating each other.” 

Sokka sends him a dismissive wave. “All that proves is how much of a supportive partner I am,” He says, and he can hear Zuko release a frustrated groan. “Zuko, if you’ve got a better idea I’d love to hear it.” 

Zuko pauses. He opens and closes his mouth several times, before decidedly giving up. “...I don’t,” He says, shaking his head solemnly, “I just don’t understand why we can’t get an annulment now and face the music.” 

“Because Zuks, the music isn’t gonna stop. Our friends and family are never going to let us live this down. We’re gonna be on our deathbeds and it's still going to be brought up, you saw Azula’s messages right?” Zuko’s eyes widen at this and Sokka can see he’s starting to catch Zuko hook, line and sinker. “All I’m saying is that yeah, we might have done _a slightly stupid thing_ , but we can just flip it and reverse it.”

“Or,” Zuko continues, “I could fake my death and never have any contact with anyone who knows me again.” 

“So you’d rather make everyone believe you’re dead than be married to me?” Sokka says, placing his hand over his chest, “You really know how to stroke my ego Zuks.” 

Except Zuko isn’t appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood, instead he’s completely zoning himself out, his uncertainty, transmitting itself through the air. A few minutes pass before he finally looks back at Sokka, his expression unreadable and slightly strained. 

‘...Okay, fine. We’ll stay married.” He says finally, and Sokka lets out a triumphant whooping sound, before Zuko brings him back down to reality. “But all I’m saying is that this better work - or I swear Sokka I’m going to murder you in your sleep.” 

“Yikes, we haven’t even been married for twenty-four hours and you’re already planning on becoming a black widow.” 

Sokka narrowly dodges the pillow Zuko sends his way. 

* * *

The next few hours of the trip are a whirlwind. 

They pack their clothes and finally leave the hotel room in search of food. 

“I don’t want to see another Taco Bell in my life again,” Zuko grumbles and Sokka can’t help but agree with that. 

Once they fill up on their fair share of greasy hangover food, they finally check out of the hotel and Sokka can’t help but be self conscious at the inherent stiffness consisting of clipped responses and raised eyebrows that the hotel receptionist sends their way. 

He prays that they didn’t give her too much shit on their night of complete tomfoolery. 

He makes sure to leave an extra big tip and a napkin that just says ‘sorry’ in his hotel room. 

* * *

Sokka doesn’t speak much as they board the plane back home. Instead he lets the gravity of their new situation lay unspoken between them. 

And despite him being on board with Sokka’s genius plan, he knows that Zuko's mind is currently in a whirlwind of emotions that he can never easily open up about. 

Only his left side is visible to him, the vibrant red of his scar emphasised by the winter sun streaming inside the plane. Sokka tries not to notice the purple love bites that litter his friend’s neck - a clear sign that this isn’t just a weird dream that Sokka is going to wake up from. Sokka gives him a gentle nudge to divert his attention from the passenger window. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, keeping his voice low and steady for Zuko’s comfort. 

Zuko turns his vision back to him and Sokka can’t make out the unreadable expression on his face. “It’s just...everything is going to change now isn’t it?” 

Sokka’s eyes widen. “It doesn’t have to - I mean, it doesn’t have to be weird unless we make it weird - it’ll be like when we lived together back in college,” And the way Zuko looks at him with so much turmoil in his eyes tells him that he’s completely unsure of Sokka’s words. 

Sokka sighs and places a hand on Zuko’s shoulder to bring his friend back to reality. “Zuko - _hey_ if you wanna tap out of this at any point, you can, you know that right?” 

“I don’t wanna tap out,” Zuko says quickly, turning to attention to look at his shoes. “It’s just… He bites down on his lip and shakes his head. ”Forget it. Forget I said anything.” 

Sokka softens his eyes and nods. After years of friendship he knows how their dynamic works best, just how he knows Zuko like the back of his hand. He knows that the best course of action is to let Zuko sort out his own thoughts, to sort through and decipher them himself, before asking him to speak up on them. 

There’s a few minutes of silence between them as they let the sound of the safety procedure fill the open air. It’s not until their plane begins to position itself to take off does Zuko speak up again. 

“Besides. What if you’re the one who wants to tap out?” 

Sokka narrows his eyes back at Zuko, wondering what surged him to ask such a question. “Trust me, I’m not gonna tap out - if anything this is going to be the best year of my life based on how much money I'm gonna save on rent alone.” He nudges Zuko playfully in the ribs which Zuko just responds with a quick rolling of his eyes, but the slight quip of the corners of his mouth doesn’t go completely unnoticed by Sokka. 

Zuko scoffs. “Whatever. Just remind me to never let you plan our next trip together again.” 

“Definitely noted.” 

As their journey home continues, Sokka can feel the adrenaline begin to leave his body so that the only thing his mind can focus on is Zuko’s words. 

_Everything is going to change now isn’t it._

While Sokka may have initially denied Zuko’s words, he couldn’t help but see the truth that clung to them in his mind. 

The Sokka that was displayed to the world before this trip - the happily single and whose tongue was definitely not down his best friend’s throat - was now gone. The Sokka who now existed was a person who was married and deeply in love with his best friend. _Oh God, he’s supposed to be in love with Zuko._

He turns his head to the person in question, who has somehow curled himself into a ball while falling asleep on the uncomfortable plane seat, and even in his unconscious state he manages to sport his signature pout. 

Sokka notes the slight shiver that comes from Zuko’s body, a sure sign of the cheap air conditioning of the plane, and takes his jacket off and drapes it over his husband. 

_His husband._

“I am once again asking you to shut up brain.” He openly chastises himself, ignoring the strange looks being sent his way by a middle-aged woman with a signature Karen haircut. 

He runs his hand down his face and just lets the last day's events wash over him. He needs to stop worrying over the hypothetical. He knows that the next few months are going to pass by like a piece of cake. 

All he needs to do is convince the rest of their respective friends and family that they’re head-over-heels in love and a happily married couple that the likes of Hallmark would make Christmas movies of - if they weren’t so white and straight. 

The moon ring on his finger turns a violent shade of red. 

I mean, what could possibly go wrong? 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! I hope you all enjoy this chapter of absolute clownery and our favourite boys dressed up as another one of my favourite ships ahem...

After they land home, waiting in an overcrowded airport parking lot, they discuss their future living arrangements - or more frankly Zukos. 

“I’ve come up with another plan on a plane -”

“You want us to adopt a kid?”

“No,” Sokka interjects, he can’t help but sport a sly grin as he side-eyes Zuko. “that’s the plan if Gran Gran doesn’t believe us.”

“Sokka.” 

“I’m Joking!” Sokka says, “No, what I was gonna ask is...how would you feel if you moved into my apartment?” He feels Zuko’s surprise, transmitting itself through the air. “I mean- I just thought it would be the best option, y’know with you still living with Iroh and all- not that there’s anything wrong with living with Iroh! I just thought it would be better, because we didn’t have to pretend all the time...I mean I could act, but I’m not that good - one time I got stage fright when I played a tree in my school’s play of Snow White and the Seven-” 

“Okay.” 

Sokka’s forehead wrinkles at this. “Wait, so you’re okay with it?”

Zuko shrugs his shoulders, turning towards Sokka with a clear, crisp expression. “That’s what I just said.” 

“I know, it’s just...I don’t want you to feel you have to uproot your entire life because of me.” 

“I-I don’t feel like that,” Zuko says hurriedly, bouncing his weight back and forth focusing on the moving vehicles of the car park. “It’s just like you said - Uncle would be living with us and we can’t pretend all the time.” 

Sokka lets out a breathless laugh. “Yeah...that would be exhausting for the both of us.” He turns towards Zuko, who just murmurs something unintelligible in response. 

“Just one thing…” Zuko turns to Sokka, his eyes completely hardened gold. “You’ll be okay if Druk comes to live in your apartment too, right?” 

Sokka’s brows arched a fraction. It seems like a rhetorical question to him, one that requires an obvious answer. Druk is Zuko’s appointed therapy cat and has been with him since their college days. Sokka knows how integral he was to Zuko’s wellbeing when he finally let go of the non-existent possibility of ever getting his father’s love and acceptance. How he’d clung to Druk’s soft fur like a lifeline. 

But Sokka also knows that it was a part of Zuko’s unspoken mantra, to the point it was practically hardwired into his DNA; asking for the smallest of requests made him feel like a burden. 

So Sokka just grins at Zuko. “I mean, I’m legally his father now, so I don’t want him to think I’m a deadbeat cat dad,” Sokka naturally eases when hears the light chuckle leave Zuko’s lips. “I’ll buy him some food tomorrow.” 

Surprise hits Sokka the second he feels familiar arms envelop him in a quick hug, with Zuko’s hands wrapping themselves around his neck with a gentle force. Once the initial shock leaves his body, he wraps his own arms around the slim lines of Zuko’s back, breathing in the warm scent of his shampoo. 

“Thanks Sokka - I really appreciate it,” An obnoxious beeping finally breaks them from apart. “My Ubers here.” 

“I’ll call you,” He says, watching Zuko’s back as he gets into the taxi. “Zuko?” Zuko turns around, the mist of the cold air illuminating him in the monotonous car pack. “Everything is gonna be okay.” 

Zuko arches his brow. “Sounds like you’re trying to tell yourself that.” He quickly gets into the taxi, at the behest of the pissed off Uber Driver, and they begin to drive away. 

Sokka keeps his eyes on the moving vehicle as it navigates it’s way through the ongoing traffic. He can’t help but let Zuko’s words echo in his mind long after he loses sight of him. 

“Oh Zuko, you have no idea.”

* * *

The next few days for Sokka are a whirlwind of overtly emotional phone calls he only expects at the holidays, because It seems like the consequences of his actions have finally manifested themselves in the form of his immediate family finding out about his marriage to Zuko. 

Between the constant reassurance to his Gran Gran that _yes, Zuko is a nice boy_ and _no, Zuko didn’t take advantage of him to get her secret fortune she’s left for him._ It begins to dawn on him how real this marriage is, as he tries to save face by telling his Gran Gran that he and Zuko have been best friends since college and they had somehow fallen in love in the whirlwind of them both navigating their early twenties. 

It sounds believable when it dances across his tongue, but he can’t ignore the seed of guilt that begins to manifest itself in his head because according to all of his family, Sokka is straight. 

Because when he thinks about it, it wasn’t like he ever had a problem with discovering his sexuality growing up. He remembers how flustered he became when he saw Yue for the first time during high school, completely mesmerized by her beauty and unaware he walked face first into a lamp post - which resulted in him being _very in love_ and _very concussed_. 

He remembers talking to Suki for the first time. How vibrant and passionate she became when she schooled him in their shared women’s studies class on the importance of grass root activism in third-wave feminism. How his breath caught in his throat when he realised it felt like taking a shot of espresso whenever she just smiled at him. 

He also remembers Zuko, and the night he’d come out to him, a year into their friendship. He remembers the instant look of fear that crossed his face when he uttered the words, _Sokka, I’m gay._ In a quick flutter of breath. How he immediately began to ramble that he would move out of their apartment if Sokka didn’t feel uncomfortable with it, and that it was _totally cool_ if he didn’t want to be friends with him anymore. 

He remembers the way Zuko flinched when he embraced him and the surge of anger that coursed through him at the circumstances that made Zuko flinch at all. He remembers the shaking shoulders and the quiet tears. The strong grip on the back of his t-shirt - twisting itself like it was holding on for dear life.

He remembers whispering for hours, telling Zuko until his throat was dry and hoarse, that there wasn’t a chance on God’s green earth that would make Sokka abandon him. He remembers thinking to himself how he could never be as brave as Zuko. How he could never handle the pressure and anxiety that naturally came with coming out. How lucky he was to never have to experience the possibility of rejection and hatred. He remembers it all. 

Except, It doesn’t take long for those seeds of guilt to grow and fester themselves further. 

He hears the phone ring when he’s in the middle of navigating the topography of his apartment to make it more (in Zuko’s words) ‘cat-friendly’, which for Sokka meant just putting down scratch posts and toys in random areas. So he leaves his current venture to pick up the ringing phone. 

“Sokka?” His father’s voice sounds muffled against his ear. “Hey, it’s me...Dad.”

Sokka can’t help but roll his eyes, even though his father is still quite young, he has the technophobia of his grandmother. “I know dad, I have caller ID remember?”

“Oh right,” His dad says, and Sokka thinks the line has gone dead for a second because all he can hear is dead silence. “I just thought you might need remembering - considering you didn’t invite me to _your wedding_.” 

_Oh fuck._

Sokka can feel his heart jump up into his throat as he begins to take long strides in his apartment to keep his guilt at bay. “Dad--look I’m sorry. It’s not like I purposely didn’t invite you or Bato or Katara-It just sort of happened…” 

“...It just sort of happened?” 

Sokka nods, seemingly forgetting he’s in a room alone before summoning the most serious tone he can muster. “I really wanted you to be there.” _Lies. Lies. Lies._

He hears his father take a deep sigh that chills his very bones. “Sokka, I’m not mad. You know I’ve always liked Zuko, and it was always obvious what you both had was more than a friendshi--” 

“What!?” Sokka interjects before quickly recovering himself from that apparent piece of information. “...I mean...was it always that obvious?” 

Hakoda chuckles lightly. “Well, I’m your dad at the end of the day- it’s the only thing these dad senses are useful for.’

“Yeah-yeah exactly. Dad senses. Used for sensing mine and Zuko’s...feelings for each other.” 

There’s a slight pause in the conversation and a part of Sokka would believe his dad has once again accidentally pressed the ‘end’ button on his Blackberry - if he didn’t hear the slow breathing coming from the other end of the phone. The tension is palatable and Sokka can feel it transmitting itself in his small apartment. 

His dad finally breaks the tension, with a tone that matches the severity of his question. 

“Sokka, is it okay if I ask you something?” 

Sokka’s mouth instantly dries. This can’t be good. “I mean- It sounds like you’re going to ask anyway.” He jokes, trying to ease some of the tension. 

“It’s just - I can’t help thinking to myself…” Another awkward beat passes. “Did I do something wrong?”

Sokka abruptly stops his stride and comes to a screeching halt. “What? Dad. What do you mean did you do something wrong?” 

“What I mean is…” Sokka hears his dad’s voice break as the words die on his tongue. Sokka knows his father and how careful he is with his words. He knows that he has probably practised these words out loud to himself in the mirror all of today and it suddenly feels like the guilt is electrifying his whole body.

Hakoda takes a deep breath before continuing. “... I saw that you got married without me knowing, and I couldn’t help but ask myself...did I ever make you uncomfortable to express yourself? Did I say something, or do anything that made you feel like you couldn’t talk about your sexuality to me?” 

Sokka bites down on his lip. “Dad No. Of course you didn't- Look. This is something I’m still discovering about myself.” _Liar, Liar, Liar!_ The internal voice rings inside his head. “I’ve never been good with the whole - _talking about feelings thing_ ,” That was technically not a lie. “And It’s just... Zuko was always different, like he was inevitable.” 

Sokka has to fight back the urge to punch himself in the face at his own incoherent rambling, but his father speaks up before he can act on it. 

“Okay- Okay it makes me feel better that my son isn’t scared to talk to me,“ He says and Sokka releases a sigh of relief. “But Sokka,” And Sokka seems to capture the same breath he releases. “Just one question-and answer me this honestly Sokka,” He waits for the final blow. “Does he make you happy?”

Sokka furrows his brow in surprise. Out of all the questions his dad could possibly ask: the last minute Vegas trip, the messy makeout sessions, his very public intoxication on Instagram live, the fucking Taco Bell wedding; he asks him if Zuko makes him happy. 

...and maybe another part of himself should also be surprised at how quickly the answer comes to him. How he delivers it so clearly, with absolutely no hesitation: 

“Yeah Dad. He does.” 

It definitely doesn’t feel like a lie. 

The mood ring on his finger shines blue. 

“And that’s all I can ask of him.” says Hakoda, and Sokka can practically hear the beaming coming from his father’s voice. 

* * *

His phone rings again a few hours later and Sokka prepares himself to make more room in Hell specifically certified for straight guys who pretend to be LGBT. 

Except instant relief washes through him when he sees who’s actually calling him. He swiftly picks up the phone and balances it between his ear and shoulder. 

“Hello husband.” 

Sokka sniggers when he hears the dramatic groaning coming from the other end. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to call me that every time you answer the phone?” 

“I don’t know, maybe.” He says, spraying his couch with citrus-scented spray on the request of Zuko, _(‘It’ll stop Druk from using it as a scratch post’)._ “Why? Are you already embarrassed to be married to me?” 

“I’ll answer that after tonight,” He mumbles, and Sokka is sure he can hear traffic in the background. “You got Toph’s text right? About the costume party at Kyoshi’s?” 

Kyoshi’s Bar had become a staple to their group’s outings ever since Suki had been appointed co-manager by Kyoshi herself. It was the only bar in town that defined itself as being ‘sapphic orientated’, and most importantly to Sokka, the only place he could get discounted cactus juice shots (despite Suki’s annoyance). 

“Yeah-yeah, I was planning on wearing the hot dog outfit you ordered for me after eating that weed brownie--” 

“Did she also tell you it’s a couples costume party?” 

Sokka is the one who outwardly groans now. “No. She conveniently left that part out,” He couldn’t help but think cynically; how the first public outing of them as a couple was now going to be emphasised by the pressure of showing off their ability to coordinate with one another. This definitely wasn’t going to make things easier for them. 

The mood ring turns an ominous black. 

He takes a deep sigh as he walks over to his bedroom and starts frantically flinging his clothes around in his drawers. “The only other costume I’ve got on me right now is my Han Solo one.” He turns around and opens up his wardrobe in the hopes of finding something salvageable. “-Fuck I don’t have time to--Zuko do you mind going as--” 

“It’s not a problem,” Zuko says quickly, with a tone that he only reserves to what they both call: ‘stress head Sokka’. “I’ll pick something up while i’m out now.”

“Thanks buddy, I appreciate it.”

It’s not like he thought Zuko would have a problem with dressing up as Princess Leia-- It’s just-- with the stress of how last minute the party is, and their apparent inability to come up with any other couple costume idea; it was obvious out of the both of them, Zuko was going to be the one with the more...high maintenance costume. 

“-Just...don’t expect me to be able to answer any Star Wars related questions.” 

Sokka chuckles at this. It became an ongoing joke between them that every time Sokka put it on anything Star Wars related; Zuko would instantly fall asleep at a drop of hat. However - it certainly didn’t stop Sokka from making him sit during their annual Star Wars marathon. 

“It’s cool-- I think everyone is going to be busy interrogating us over our supposed relationship anyway.” He pauses slightly for the chance to let Zuko crack a joke at this, but all he hears is dead silence. 

“Yeah. Exactly. So I’ll see you tonight. Bye.” 

The line goes dead before he can properly question Zuko’s sudden abruptness. He looks intently at the phone in his hand and wonders if he should ring back to make sure he’s okay if he had accidentally said something to upset him. 

_Don’t be stupid, he probably just got caught at a traffic light or something_. The internal voice in his head says to him. 

And Sokka just shrugs to himself and goes back to perfecting his costume for the night. 

* * *

They decide to meet on the outside of Kyoshi’s to plan their big appearance. Sokka feels the electric energy of Kyoshi’s even when he’s standing on the sidewalk. He soaks up the laughter and smiles of people who are conversing around him; the stagnant smell of smoke and alcohol burns throughout the air. 

Sokka feels the butterflies in his stomach go haywire the longer he waits. Surely the rest of the gang were already inside by now. He chews on his fingertips as he starts to look around in the hopes of locking eyes with his husband. 

That’s when he spots it, the sight of raven-coloured locks and a familiar looking scar, while the upper half of him appears only visible due to a crowd of people surrounding him. 

Zuko. 

He begins to stride over to where he is but finds himself suddenly paralysed when he sees what Zuko actually decided to wear. 

“What the fuck are you wearing?” He can’t help but cry out. 

Zuko arches a brow. “Hello to you too?”

“Why are you dressed like Luke Skywalker?” 

And he is definitely dressed like Luke Skywalker because Sokka has seen Star Wars enough times to tell by the seamingless authenticity of the white robes and printed belt he is distinctively Luke; also the very obvious fact that Zuko must have paid a pretty penny to get it.

Zuko’s eyes widen. “Is-Is this not?--” He says, looking down at his costume and back up to Sokka, “I thought they were a couple.” 

“You thought--” Sokka says, rubbing his hand down his face and taking a deep sigh. “Zuko. Han and Luke are just friends--It’s Princess Leia that Han is in love with.” And the expression on Zuko’s face right now makes him feel like he’s speaking a foreign language. “Remember our annual Star Wars marathon?” 

“You mean the ones I fell asleep each time? Not really,” He replies, cooly. “All I remember is the first film and for me, there was obvious subtext that the main guy was gay--” 

“Zuko that’s great and I’d love to hear more about it--” He exclaims. Never in a million years would he have thought letting Zuko fall asleep during their Star Wars marathons would come back to bite him on the ass. “--But right now, we’re trying to sell this fake relationship and we’re going to a couple costume party dressed as two friends,” He leans against the side of the building. “I think i’m going to vomit.” 

Zuko is by his side in an instant. “Woah-woah calm down and breathe,” He says, rubbing his hand up and down his arm. He lowers his voice a few octaves so that only he could hear his next few words. “Do you want to talk about what’s really going on.” 

Sokka pauses, looking down at his boots. “It’s just-- I’m the plan guy y’know? It’s what I do. It’s what I’m good at…” He trails off. The previous words from his father ring inside his head and he closes his eyes to try and shut them out. “...And I-I feel responsible for this mess, so I need everything to go perfect- or I just start feeling like I’m gonna fuck it all up and take you down with me.” 

A heavy silence falls between them, as the only thing between them is the muffled conversations of the people around them. 

Zuko is the first to break the silence. 

“Hey, Sokka can you look at me?” 

Sokka keeps his eyes downwards. 

“Sokka, please look at me,” Zuko says softly, and Sokka slowly lifts his head back up to see a very concerned looking Zuko. 

“I agreed to this fake relationship too remember? I bear the same responsibility you do,” Sokka begins to open his mouth to argue back with him. “Don’t interrupt me.” Sokka immediately shuts his mouth again.

Zuko takes another long look at him before continuing. “Look, these costumes... they’re just tiny details to the big plan- and the big plan is that we’re going to sell the fuck out of this relationship, even if we’re dressed as two very queer-coded friends.” 

And maybe Zuko was right. It wasn’t about displaying the intricate details of their relationship through something as flimsy and nonsensical as a few costumes. It was something more than that. It was about letting themselves and their imperfect friendship flourish itself into the relationship they were presenting to the world. 

Because despite everything and all the shit that had hit them the past couple of days, they were still each other's support system, like a rock in the middle of a storm. Sokka knew he couldn’t forget that. 

So maybe dressing as Luke and Han fit them a hell of a lot better. 

Sokka nods his head. “Yeah-no you’re right, thanks Zuko,” He says, as they finally make their way inside. “Sorry I blew up at you. You do look great--like an emo Luke Skywalker.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” He says, rolling his eyes. “Right, let’s go to this party.” 

Sokka stops. “Oh! One more thing.” He says, taking something out of his pocket and placing it in Zuko’s palm. 

“Are these...flashcards?” 

Sokka nods. “They’re details about our supposed relationship that the gang are definitely going to ask us about,” He gestures to the flash cards. “they’re also colour coded. Blue to represent how we got together and red to represent--” 

Zuko instead shoves the cards into his costumed robes, grabs Sokka’s hand, as they finally begin to enter Kyoshi’s. 

* * *

Toph is the first one to greet them as they walk in. 

“Well if it isn’t the newlyweds!” She cries out, slightly spilling the glass filled with dark liquid in her right hand.

“How did you?- y’know what, nevermind.” Zuko says. They’d long given up on figuring out how Toph recognised each of them despite being blind. 

Sokka raises his brow at the sight of her costume. She seemed to be wearing some sort of pumpkin costume, but in the form of a melon instead of a pumpkin, and by the state of the jack o’lantern on her head, (and it also being Toph) - it wouldn’t put it past him if she’d used a real melon and just stuck it on herself. 

“Congratulations to getting hitched- but also fuck you for making me the…” Toph pauses to dramatically count her fingers. “seventh wheel!” raising her hand in their faces, while more brown liquid spills from her glass. 

Zuko raises his brow at him which Sokka reads to mean: _well, she’s definitely fucked._

“Hey Toph, thanks for the er-- wedding thanks.” Sokka says, leaning down to give her a quick hug. “Cool, Jack O'Lantern costume by the way,”

“Thanks, I made it myself.”

“Oh, you can definitely tell.” He says, and immediately wheezes at the punch Toph gives him. 

Zuko nods in agreement. “Yeah cool costume, but wouldn’t it have been better if you cut some bigger holes where the eyes should be?” 

“Yeah Sparky. That would be really useful for me, wouldn’t it?” Toph turns her attention to Sokka, while Zuko’s face has gone considerably red. “Did your vows include not sharing brain cells with him?”

And before Zuko can begin to sputter out an apology he’s definitely said in the past, their names are called out against the bar. 

“Zuko!”

“Sokka!” 

They both turn to see the rest of the gang sitting in a colourful booth. Sokka can’t help but notice the effort they’d put in their couple costumes. Aang and Katara’s face makeup were filled with overcomplicated shading and blending to reflect human skeletons to match their black and white skeleton costumes. 

While Suki and Yue completely parallel them by using every colour known to human-kind to perfect their Princess Bubblegum and Marceline costumes. Their visible bodies were completely covered in pink and grey body paint; with Yue going as far to dye her hair an electric pink and Suki a charcoal black that rivals Zuko's own hair. 

“Hey guys!” Sokka says, trying to ignore the bubbling inadequacy threatening to spill over inside him. 

Zuko greets them by quickly waving his left hand awkwardly at the entire group. 

And Sokka doesn’t even realise the way he freezes when Zuko places his hand into Sokka’s own, lacing their fingers together and squeezing his hand in gentle strides, as they make their way over. 

“Take a seat, we want to hear all the grizzly details.” says Yue, gesturing to the empty seats they saved for the both of them. 

They quickly sit down next to each other and Sokka can't help but feel completely surrounded. “Yeah--no of course, the details.” He says, immediately his heart begins to race at what is to come. 

“Well my first question is-” Yue says. 

“--whartherfawk?” Suki interrupts. 

Zuko’s forehead wrinkles. “Huh?” 

Suki rolls her eyes at him, before removing the fake plastic vampire teeth from her mouth. “I said, ‘what the fuck?’” raising her hands to gesture to the both of them. 

“I think what Suki meant to ask was...” Yue clarifies, turning to them and smiling with all the grace of a diplomatic princess she’s dressed as. “why didn’t you guys tell us you were together?” 

Suki shrugs. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it. -- I mean, Sokka we didn’t even know you definitely liked guys.” She says, turning to him with an astringent gaze. 

His palms start to sweat. 

“Well I never really knew myself--before Zuko,” He splutters, feeling his face go red when he realises all eyes are now on him. “I guess I just never felt comfortable talking about that stuff--” He says, his mind going blank, unable to come up with a proper defence. “Sexuality is a beautiful spectrum yeah?” 

He wants to die. He wants God to just open up the ground and let him fall to his demise. His mouth is dry and he can feel the sweat beginning to glisten on his forehead. He flounders and picks up a shot from their table, ignoring the look Zuko sends his way. He lets the foul liquid run down his throat, at least he can’t embarrass himself further if he just keeps drinking. Besides, liquid courage never hurt anyone. 

_Alcohol is the reason you’re in this mess, you asshole_. His brain screams at him. 

Yue just nods at him, seemingly choosing to ignore his weird behaviour. “That’s right,” she says, turning to lace her fingers into Suki’s. “I always knew something was going on between you too. You could practically _feel_ the sexual tension.” 

“Yeah I mean,” Sokka says. “How I managed not to just jump him anytime we were in a room together is beyond me.” 

Zuko bites down on his lips in an attempt to hide his laughter. 

“I think Suki and I just felt bad we weren’t there for you when you came out, considering you helped the both of us when we did.” 

Sokka feels the breath catch in his throat. “Don’t sweat it, honestly.” 

_You’re going to hell, you’re going to hell, you’re going to hell_. 

“Yeah, not everyone comes out and gets married all in a single instagram post so congratulations on that...” Suki says, as Sokka begins to take his next shot. “So, how did you guys get together anyway?” 

“Did Sparky finally admit his freshman crush on you?” Toph asks, and immediately has to hit Sokka on the back when he starts choking on his cactus juice. 

When he finally stops sputtering and coughing, ignoring the way his throat feels like sandpaper, he swiftly turns towards Zuko. “You had a crush on me?”

“We’re married.” Zuko replies evenly, not making proper eye contact with him. Sokka notices the red spots that start to appear in his cheeks. He turns back to the rest of the gang, ignoring Sokka. “I’m sorry guys we would have told you sooner it’s just--we just...didn’t want to make it weird.” 

“...Make it weird how?” Katara asks, with a tone that suggests she isn’t buying what they’re trying to sell her. 

Sokka just raises his brow at her and gestures to them all wildly. “Y’know by...changing the group dynamic.”

“Because no one has ever dated inside the group before,” Suki says, gesturing to herself and Yue, who just waves back at him, smiling. “including you, Sokka.” 

“--It was my idea actually,” Zuko interrupts, ignoring the flash of panic across Sokka’s face. Everyone turns their attention back to him. “I wanted to keep it a secret because...” he trails off, clearly thinking of the precision of what he is going to say. “I haven’t had the best relationships in the past…” Sokka’s eyes widen slightly when Zuko took his hand in his for everyone to see, “...And it just felt like this brand new thing- with Sokka. This completely unspoilt thing, so I guess I was fine to just...love him in secret for a while.’ 

Sokka thanks every deity under the sun for Zuko’s impressive acting chops. 

“Yeah- what Zuko said,” Sokka interjects, tripping over himself to agree. “we just wanted to wait for the right time before telling you.” 

Katara’s brows arch a fraction. “By ‘waiting it out’ you mean having a taco bell wedding and posting it all over social media?”

“You say _tomato_ , I say _tomato._ ” Okay, now the shots are definitely doing the talking for him. 

Katara groans. “C’mon Sokka, there’s no way you can convince me you guys planned this.”

“Well we did, and maybe you’re just jealous,” Sokka replies coolly. He feels like the captain of the Titanic and in this very moment he’s slowly going down with his giant boat of guilt. 

Katara scoffs at him. “Jealous?”

 _Just shut up,_ the logical part of his brain screams at him. _For the love of all things holy, please shut the fuck up._

He knows he isn’t making sense, but for some reason, the last few days have finally hit him like a truck and it feels like his brain can’t catch up with his mouth anymore. 

So instead he just frantically nods. 

“Yeah, I mean-- I got married first, and you always thought it was gonna be you.”

Sokka instantly regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, especially when he sees the way Aang reacts to his words, his face turning a scarlet red. 

While the only red Katara sees is anger. 

“Yes Sokka,” Katara says, finally snapping at him and frankly, Sokka can’t blame her. “I’m jealous - so jealous that you got married shit-faced and an absolute mess- in a Las Vegas taco bell wedding joint!” 

“Well, I’m glad you could finally admit that to yourself.”

“--So, who proposed to who?” Aang quickly asks, interrupting them from continuing their back and forth. 

Sokka’s blood immediately runs cold. 

The fucking flashcards. 

Zuko didn’t read the flashcards. 

If he had read them, he’d know the plan was to say Sokka was the one to propose. 

“I did.”

“I did.” 

They both say in unison and Sokka once again wishes for an early grave. 

There’s a heavy silence between them that no one knows how to break. 

Zuko shoots his gaze to Sokka, all open-mouthed and flustered, which Sokka returns intently. 

Sokka subtly raises his brow at him, which he hopes translates into: _I’m the one who proposed -- if you read the fucking flashcards._

And he must pick up on it somehow, because he breaks his gaze from him and declares to the group, in typical awkward Zuko fashion:

“...it was a mutual agreement.” 

“...A mutual agreement?” Aang asks. 

Sokka cringes at the tone of his voice, which very much screams of apparent scepticism. 

“Yeah, we...mutually decided that I was going to be the one to propose.” Sokka mumbles, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. 

“Oh right...that’s really diplomatic of you guys!” says Aang, recovering from his very obvious confusion. 

Zuko shrugs at him. “I guess you can say we’re just an unconventional couple.” 

“That would be an understatement.” Toph mumbles in between her drink. 

There’s an intermission of silence before they all quietly converse with their separate partners. Suki and Yue seem to be in their own private world, as Suki giggles at whatever sweet nothings Yue is fervently whispering in her ear.

Aang and Katara are having their own private conversation of quick mutterings, which from where Sokka is sitting can see it’s one of an intense nature. 

Sokka just hopes they can forgive him for being an absolute jackass. 

He’s broken out of his trance when he feels a gentle nudge and turns around to Zuko, who’s staring at him intently. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” 

Zuko’s eyes soften and leans over so only Sokka can hear him. “You okay?” 

Is he? 

“I--” he says, his voice sounding strained. “I need to pee.” 

He abruptly jolts out of his seat before Zuko has the chance to even question him and ignores the concerned murmurs erupt at his departure. 

* * *

He lets the icy water hit his face several times. The familiar sensation of sobriety soon takes over. 

He look into the mirror and cringes at the glassy, bloodshot eyes that look back at him. 

He slowly leans his head against the mirror, closing his eyes. “Idiot.” he whispers. 

“I hope you’re not referring to me.” 

He jumps at the sound of the familiar voice, turning around to Zuko leaning against the doorway in his now crumpled Luke Skywalker costume. 

Sokka just stares back. 

He removes his weight from the doorway and moves closer to where Sokka is in the midst of his self loathing. 

“Katara asked me to see if you were okay.” He practically whispers. 

Sokka lets out a breathless laugh. “Yeah, right.” He says, noticing the way Zuko’s brows raise at him. “I was dick to her, Zuko -- a massive dick.” 

Zuko shrugs. “I mean yeah, but what else is new?” 

And it would sound like an insult coming from someone else, but Sokka knows Zuko like the palm of his hand. 

So instead, he playfully shoves Zuko to the side. 

“Dork.” 

Zuko just rolls his eyes before slightly softening them. “I’m sorry,” he finally says, “I should have read the flashcards.” 

“Don’t be. It was a dumb idea. I should have just texted you the plan.” Sokka pauses slightly, looking at Zuko. “...Did you really have a crush on me in freshman year?” 

Zuko’s eyes widen. “I-I mean -- The way Toph made it sound like-- look it was before I even really knew you,” He runs a hand through his hair. “So let's just not mention it again yeah?” 

“So what you’re saying is...you stopped crushing on me once you actually got to know me?” 

“Yes.”

“You really know how to make a guy feel special Zuks.” He scoffs, running a hand over his face. “God, I felt so unprepared for all of that.” 

“All of?...”

Sokka gestures to the door with his arms. “That!” He cries. “All of the questions and the lying…” He lets his head fall back into the sink. “I mean-- I should have known I’d be the one bad at this, I’m shit at lying - I can’t even play poker because it feels too much like lying.” 

“Listen- you’re too nervous, you just need to relax,” Zuko says unphased. Sokka can’t help but think how fucked he is if he’s getting advice on relaxation from Zuko. “I took your hand earlier and it felt like I was holding onto a damn tree branch.” 

“Y’know, this tree branch has feelings.” 

“What i’m trying to say is- you can come up with millions of plans and you can know the details of our relationship like the back of your hand- but it won’t mean shit if we can’t physically act like a real couple.” 

Sokka pauses, letting Zuko’s words continue to ring inside his head. 

And then the idea hits him like electricity. 

He quickly leans up so he’s now parallel to Zuko. Determination coursing through his veins which also mirrors in his expression. 

“Kiss me.” 

Zuko stares back at him dumbfounded. “I-- huh?” 

“It’s just-- it’s exactly like you said- we need to practise being a couple, none of those flashcards or background shit. We need to do it right and we need to do it now- because otherwise people are gonna figure out we’re not married--” 

“--But we are.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

"Yeah, but when I suggested it - I didn't mean _that..."_ Zuko says, slightly pausing letting his words trail off. "We’ve kissed before though, how is that any different?” 

“Because-- we didn’t do it right,” Sokka explains. “We were either drunk or under different circumstances- we weren’t trying to tell the world we’re a couple!” 

Zuko sighs and Sokka is sure he’s going to call him ‘crazy’ and leave him here to wallow in his embarrassment. But instead, he begins step into his space and Sokka feels his breath catch in his throat, as he backs against the restroom wall. 

“So you want to kiss me...for practise reasons?” he murmurs. 

“Yeah,” Sokka gulps. “I mean--only if you want too.” 

“Okay.” Zuko says, a challenging look blazing through his eyes like wildfire. 

And Sokka doesn’t have time to respond when he suddenly feels Zuko’s lips on his. 

His brain immediately short circuits. It’s a strange feeling really, as Zuko’s lips move against his; strong and urgent and he feels his eyelids flutter when Zuko’s hands snake around his hips dragging him closer. Thumbs digging into the dents of his hips. 

It surprises him how quickly he finds the rhythm; how he’s moving his head to experiment with all the different angles. 

He’s kissing his best friend. 

He’s kissing his best friend and _he likes it._

Apparently he likes it _a bit too much_ because during the moment he lets his hands wander up Zuko’s well defined back, his muscles standing out against the robes of his costume. He lets out an embarrassingly-loud man that would put his drunk Vegas self to shame. 

“Fuck--you’re loud.” Zuko murmurs, and he goes back to kissing him with even more intensity, opening his mouth more to slip his tongue into Sokka’s mouth. 

Zuko presses his back more firmly against the wall but he doesn’t mind. Zuko is good at this. Incredibly good. And maybe there’s a part of Sokka that wants Zuko to think he’s good at this too. Maybe he wants to push back against Zuko, to hear him make the same enthusiastic moans as Sokka, to put Zuko in even more of a daze than he is right now. 

Except, he never gets the chance because in the midst of their ‘practise session’ they conveniently ignore the sound of the restroom door opening. 

“Guys? You’ve been gone a long time and--” Aang throws his hands up to his eyes before they can break apart. “Oh-- shit! Sorry- forget I was even here!” and runs back outside. 

“Sorry Aang.” Zuko calls after him, his voice sounding hoarse and Sokka has to fight the giggle that threatens to leave his lips. 

The air still feels tense even after they’ve broken apart and Sokka takes in Zuko’s appearance of swollen lips and messy hair. 

“We should--” 

“I--” 

They say at the same time and Sokka just leans back to balance his head onto Zuko’s frumpled costume to try and catch his breath. 

Who knew kissing your best friend while you’re both dressed as Star Wars characters could be so exhausting? 

“We should go back inside.” Zuko faintly whispers. 

“Yeah,” Sokka says. He needs to go back and apologise to Katara for acting like a dumbass. “Aang’s probably telling them we were basically humping each other.”

Zuko groans and they're so close, Sokka can feel the vibrations through his body. “They’re never gonna let us live this down.” 

“It worked though,” Sokka leans back from Zuko and attempts to freshen himself up in the mirror. “Now there's definitely no speculation about us being a couple.” He turns to Zuko smiling. “You’re a genius.” 

Sokka expects the same level of enthusiasm from Zuko, but instead all he’s left with is an expression from him he can’t quite decipher. 

“No problem,” He says, taking his hand out once more for Sokka to take. “You ready to go back in there?”

Sokka takes his hand firmly in his. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” 

Zuko smiles and looks down to where their hands are clasped together, shaking them gently. “Well...at least you don’t feel like a tree branch anymore.” 

“C’mon, dork.” 

And as they leave the restroom together, hand in hand in their respective costumes; he can’t help but notice the way his pulse hasn’t slowed down since they broke apart from their kiss. How he could feel its intensity; this great pounding, this great pressure; every beat slamming against his heart.

 _It’s fine though,_ he thinks to himself. It’s probably just the effect of his dedication to making this plan work. Nothing more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos are appreciated and always encouraged


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you might have noticed a fic name change...
> 
> I'm coming out the closet as a indecisive zwiftie so I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

Zuko plans to move in a few days later. 

Sokka looks around his apartment knowing this will be his last days of solitude for another year tops. It was definitely humble with what he could get on his internship salary to Piandao; with its one-bedroom setup; one bathroom and a cramped kitchen that somehow doubled as a walkway into the living room; a sure sign he wouldn’t be able to get a mortgage anytime soon. 

He wonders what it will look like once they throw their lives together in a single space. He thinks back to their time at college - how Zuko just screamed clueless rich kid when Sokka was the one to teach him the magical method off loading up the dish-washer, using a washing machine, ironing his clothes; having to give him the knowledge of cooking the most basic meals instead of living off Cup-O-Noodles every day; to be honest, it was a complete shock to Sokka he’d lasted so long without contracting scurvy. 

Sokka knows this time around is different though and Zuko (for the most part) isn’t that same person he was at college and neither is he. 

It seems Sokka gets his answer when the doorbell rings the next day. 

He opens the door and he’s greeted with a very dishevelled-looking Zuko holding a cat carrier under one arm, and a suitcase under the other. 

“Sorry we’re late,” He says, his breathing ragged. He walks past Sokka to the other side of the apartment, where the cat toys and bed were located, gently setting down the carrier. “Druk saw the carrier and decided to choose violence.” He rolls the sleeves of his t-shirt up to reveal several dark scratch marks. 

As if on cue, increasingly insistent meowing fills the apartment. Zuko just rolls his eyes. He opens the carrier bag and a flash of red scurries its way out it, looking around inquisitively. 

Sokka shrugs. “It’s cool, besides…” he says, turning around to where Druk was rubbing against the musty-old sofa. “...I finally get to meet my son.” 

“You’ve met him before Sokka.” Zuko mutters, too busy opening the suitcase to reveal nothing but books he starts filling on Sokka’s bookshelf. 

“Yeah, but I’m his dad too now,” Sokka leans down to where two amber eyes stare up at him. “Hey buddy,” He slowly guides his palm over to pet Druk, who arches his soft fur for some much needed affection. “Besides - I think he likes me more already.” 

He looks back at Zuko. He’s stopped what he's doing. His eyes unexpectedly affectionate in the faint lighting, before he quickly turns back to the bookshelf, letting out a scoff. “You wish.” 

Another knock is heard through the door and Sokka runs back to open it. 

“Iroh!” Sokka opens his arms out for the old man to take, he’s pulled into strong arms, gently rubbing his shoulder. He sunk into the warmth of his side, before finally letting go. “If it isn’t my favourite father-in-law.”

Iroh beams up at him. “Hello to my favourite son-in-law.” 

“Uncle.” Zuko sternly calls out, not turning around from the bookshelf he has now sat, cross-legged, rearranging. 

Iroh looks over Sokka’s shoulder with a knowing smile, “There’s no point being embarrassed dear nephew, you’re a married man now,” he pats Sokka on the shoulder. “Besides, Sokka is an excellent pai-sho player...and a very good catch.” 

Sokka jumps, as the book Zuko’s holding unexpectedly crashes to the floor. Zuko turns around, his face blotchy and scarlet. “Don’t you have customers to serve?” His voice strained. 

Iroh furrows his eyebrows in faux-concentration, before quickly smiling back at Zuko. “No, I don’t think so. From what I remember, I distinctly said Jin was behind the counter today.” 

Zuko purses his lips. “Nope. Don’t remember that at all.” He strides over to where Sokka is standing to Iroh, his gaze remaining intent. “Maybe you should go back and check. Just in case.” 

Sokka gazes between them, he easily figures from the way Zuko’s eye slightly twitches in this unspoken conversation with Iroh. he is hiding something from him. He wonders what it could be. Maybe he felt guilty and told Iroh that their relationship was fake; or he told him that Sokka basically forced him into staying married to save face and now wanted out. Whatever it was, the facial journey Zuko was going through was particularly strenuous and not at all subtle. 

It seems Iroh picks up on this fact well, as he finally breaks eye contact with his nephew. 

“You know what nephew? I think you’re right. I need to be heading off,” Sokka hears the sigh of relief from Zuko. Iroh turns towards the door - abruptly stopping in Sokka’s direction. “Sokka would you mind helping me get the last of Zuko’s belongings?” 

“I can do it.” Zuko interjects, beginning to move out of the apartment at a speed Sokka has never seen him possess before. 

Iroh brings his hand up. “That won’t be necessary nephew,” He turns back to Sokka, with a smile, he can’t quite decipher. “Besides, I think I’m due a heart to heart with your new husband.” 

Sokka smiles back weakly. Maybe Zuko really did tell Iroh about Sokka forcing them to stay married and Iroh was about to secretly murder him for defiling his nephew’s honour or something. 

“Yeah that sounds great,” He says, with as much enthusiasm he can muster. He begins to follow Iroh out the apartment door. 

“Your husband will be back up soon Zuko, don’t miss him too much!” Iroh calls out, already halfway down the hall. 

Sokka turns to shut the door, not before getting one final look at Zuko. He turns away. His shoulders and back completely hunched, as he forcefully puts the books into his shelf. 

Sokka follows Iroh down the apartment hall. 

“Does Zuko seem a bit...stressed out to you?” 

Iroh continues walking, turning back to grin at Sokka. “Marriage jitters- perfectly natural,” They stop at the stairway and he pats Sokka on the shoulder. “Probably from starting a new chapter in his life with you.” 

“I doubt it,” Sokka shrugs his shoulders as they begin to make their way down the flight of the stairs. “I mean, we‘ve lived together before.” 

“Yes, but living together as friends and roommates is very different from living together as lovers no?” 

Sokka’s eyes widen when Iroh refers to him and Zuko as ‘lovers’. He tries not to let his mind wander back to their practise make-out session at the bar, praying the echoing of their footsteps drowns out his rapidly growing heartbeat. 

“I don’t think it’ll be that different for us,” Sokka states, feeling the blood rush to his face. “It’ll just be like how it was when we were in college.” 

Zuko’s previous sentiment echoes in his mind. 

_Everything is gonna change now isn’t it?_

There’s a lull in their conversation as they make their way out of the apartment door. Sokka is reminded of how much of an early-riser Zuko actually is when the cool, crispness of winter morning hits him, as they make their way over to Iroh’s car. Now that they’re forced to share a bed together; maybe he can finally force Zuko to get up at a reasonable hour. 

“I remember the words my wife’s father gave to me on my wedding day,” Iroh says, interrupting his thoughts. “He said, ‘Marriages are not as they are made, but as they turn out,’” He abruptly turns to meet Sokka’s gaze, smiling. “I suppose it's my turn to pass that on to you now Sokka.” 

“Thank you?” 

Iroh grins at Sokka’s apparent confusion. He opens up the car boot to rifle through Zuko’s possessions. Sokka raises his brow at the amount of stuff Zuko actually brought with him. The items he could make out from the overflowing car boot were several boxes of vinyls paired with a record player, charity shop bought kitchenware, two fancy looking tea sets from The Jasmine Dragon; and three different versions of Phantom of the Opera. 

Sokka didn’t expect letting Zuko move in would mean his apartment becoming an episode of Hoarders. 

After they somehow organise all of Zuko’s contents into two suitcases, Iroh turns to him with concern. 

“Are you sure, you’ll be okay carrying all of this back up yourself?” 

Sokka shrugs, placing his hands on his hips. “Yeah, I mean-- if I end up breaking my back, I’m pretty sure Zuko’s can hit me up with his health insurance.” He lets out a sharp wheeze, as he attempts to lift both of the (very) heavy suitcases. 

Iroh chuckles lightly, before turning to Sokka with a newfound expression that Sokka can’t quite decipher. “Sokka. I must confess. My intentions weren’t entirely... _innocent_ when I asked you to help me. I wanted to talk to you...about my nephew.” 

Sokka freezes, clinging to the suitcase handle like a lifeline. 

_Is this the part when he actually kills me for drunkenly marrying his nephew at a Taco Bell wedding joint?_ His mind screams. 

“Oh?” he says, in a tone he hopes comes across as nonchalant as possible. 

Iroh nods solemnly, exhaling a type of deep breath he’s familiar with, for he’s seen Zuko do it every time he’s overwhelmed. “You see, you probably know my nephew hasn’t been dealt the best cards in life…”

 _That's an understatement,_ Sokka’s unconscious point blank states. 

‘But he is still a kind boy; a gentle boy who puts others before himself- I’d even guess it’s one of the reasons you fell in love with him,” He continues, quickly smiling at Sokka, before changing his expression to something more serious, more sombre. “But I can’t deny his stubborn streak. I have tried to tell him he needs to offer the same forgiveness for himself; he so liberally gives to the ones who hurt him....but I’m yet to succeed.”

Sokka’s throat dries at Iroh’s words. He was always well aware of Zuko’s tendency towards self-depreciation - he knew the visible scar on Zuko’s face couldn’t match all of the unseen ones inside of him, hidden from the world. How they festered in him like an open wound begging to be ripped further. 

He knew this, which is why he is left puzzled at Iroh’s confession. 

“Iroh, I don’t understand, why are you telling me this?” 

Iroh reaches his hand out, gently gripping Sokka’s shoulder. “Because I need you to understand that... for you to love my nephew is to love him without prejudice,” Iroh states the words like a mantra. “To know that his bad days are inevitable, but to love him regardless - can you promise me that Sokka?” 

“Iroh, Zuko is my best friend I--” 

The words fall on his tongue when he sees the way Iroh looks at him with such raw intensity. He wonders if he can say it. If anyone could. If someone is even capable of loving another- if a form of love like that even exists- to intrinsically love someone beyond their flaws. 

He then thinks about Zuko and how they have something rarer, and even more meaningful between them he can’t quite put into words just yet. 

“I promise.” 

The answer comes with no hesitations, clear and crisp like the winter morning. 

Iroh breathes in relief, finally dropping his hand from Sokka’s shoulder, like his one mission was complete. “Thank you Sokka, I can sleep easy tonight knowing my nephew is in good hands,” He turns to grab a small, wrapped box from the inside of the car “Also, before I forget, take this. Consider it a late wedding present for you both.” 

Sokka quickly unwraps it, his eyebrows furrow at the contents.

“‘Ginseng Tea’.” He reads out loud, which also happens to be only English words, in the midst of large Japanese branding. 

Iroh gives him a knowing smile. “I’m sure you and Zuko will appreciate it’s... _certain benefits_. 

* * *

He closes the apartment door behind him. His hair had become dishevelled on the trip back up to the apartment with both suitcases, strands of hair escaping his wolf tail; now matted across his sweaty forehead. Despite the cold air of the apartment, sweat clings to his body; making the sweatshirt he’s wearing very uncomfortable. He takes a moment to catch his breath, raising his eyebrows when he notices the sleeping state of Druk, who has found his way into one of the discarded cardboard boxes Zuko brought up with him. 

Sokka rolls his eyes. So much for the luxury cat bed. 

“So..what did my uncle want to speak to you about?” 

Sokka turns his gaze back to Zuko standing with his arms crossed over his chest, like a child being caught. More notably, he was standing right next to the window that looks out in the direction where he just had his conversation with Iroh. It’s obvious to Sokka he’s been spying. 

He wonders if he should tell Zuko about his conversation with his uncle, but a part of him knows Zuko wouldn’t appreciate being seen as vulnerable and weak, even in the eyes of the people that care for him, and he especially wouldn’t appreciate having his issues talked about behind his back. 

“Nothing much,” Sokka says, nonchalantly, placing Zuko’s suitcases to one side. “Just that he’s going to come find me and slowly break each one of my fingers, if I even think about breaking your heart.” 

“WHAT?” 

The reaction is instantaneous. Zuko moves like he’s been electrified, taking his phone out of his back pocket and begins pressing the numbers to call Iroh. 

“I’m joking, Jesus.” He watches as Zuko drops the phone from his ear, taking a deep sigh and looking ready to kill him. “...it was only my legs he’d break.” 

_“Sokka.”_

He’s so gullible, it’s not Sokka’s fault - he makes it too easy. 

Sokka raises his hands up in mock defence. “Again, joking. He was just being typical Iroh, gave me some tea and some complicated proverb about life.” 

Zuko sighs and sits back on the sofa. “Yeah, that sounds more like Uncle,” He eyes the box quizzically in Sokka’s hands. “What tea did he give you?” 

Sokka throws the box in his direction, watching it land in Zuko’s lap. “Ginseng tea. I couldn’t make out the rest because it's all in Japanese.” He says, furrowing his eyebrows at Zuko. “I thought jasmine tea was your favourite.”

“He gave you- _ginseng tea?”_

“Yeah...what’s wrong with that?” 

Zuko pauses slightly. “Did he tell you what it's used for?” 

“No. Just told me that we’d both appreciate its benefits,” Sokka eyes the box quizzically and back to Zuko. “What are the benefits?” 

Zuko doesn’t answer. Instead moving into his classic position of closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose with his forefingers. 

“Zuko?”

“I’m going to kill him.” 

Sokka groans. “Will you stop being dramatic and just tell me?” 

Zuko shoots a sharp glare at him, pausing ever so slightly, as if he was mentally weighing up if he should tell Sokka or not. It seems he comes to his decision when he releases a long sigh. “It’s Korean red ginseng. It's stronger than normal ginseng. It’s meant to help with...certain performances.” Zuko says, his voice going up a few octaves. 

Sokka’s eyes widen as the realisation hits him. 

“Holy shit, your uncle gave us sex tea!”

Zuko rolls his eyes. “It’s not sex tea, it’s used for other things like stress management-” 

“--Your uncle gave us Viagra in a tea bag!.” 

“Will you shut up?” 

“Did he think as soon as he left we were just gonna make some tea and fuck?” Sokka pauses, scrunching up his nose. “Who even does that?” 

Zuko shrugs his shoulders. Sokka notes how his cheeks are notably flamed. “It’s my uncle, what do you expect?” He states, getting up from the sofa to place the tea in the highest reaches of the kitchen cupboard.

 _Good,_ Sokka thinks to himself. _It’s not like they’ll be using it anyway._

Zuko sits back down. “He tries to incorporate tea in life anyway he ca-- y’know what? I don’t even want to go there.” 

Sokka snorts at the look of disgust that appears on his face. He’s gonna have fun with this one. 

“Do you think that's what happened? He just downed a pot of tea and boom! Out came Lu Ten--” 

Sokka narrowly dodges the cushion Zuko sends his way, making a mental note to stop letting Zuko use cushions as a weapon against him. 

* * *

Sokka helps Zuko unpack for the rest of the day. 

They dance around each other like two orbiting planets, watching as Zuko’s existence becomes more instant with each miscellaneous item placed. Sokka sets up his imperial cast teapot and complicated looking tea strainer, and Zuko moves his record player and impressive vinyl collection next to the sofa, _“In case, you want to use it too.”_ he reasons to Sokka. Sokka just tells him he’ll pass on the show tunes. It’s not much but it feels like a start. 

Once they’ve finished unpacking they make their way to the grocery store around the corner from Sokka’s apartment. Sokka makes a big song and dance about not letting Zuko near the Cup-O-Noodles aisle, piling their cart high with different variants of meats and vegetables on top of Zuko’s fire flakes and gourmet cat food. They split the bill, and when they’re walking back to the apartment, Sokka throws his arm over Zuko’s shoulder, who naturally just leans into it. 

When they get back, Sokka places Zuko’s name on the scheduling board he has in his kitchen. He’s the plan guy after all, so he starts to create a colour code for them: blue for him; red for Zuko. He watches as Zuko fills the board with the intricacies of his daily life; deep crimson and elegant handwriting consisting of shifts at the Jasmine Dragon and numerous therapy sessions; it contrasts with the turquoise scribbles of Sokka’s own life, detailing his internship and studying time. Sokka watches as the two colours blend with each other; their lives becoming one.

* * *

“I should really make you a playlist or something.” Sokka says, guiding his fingers through Zuko’s vinyl collection consisting mainly of musical theatre. 

In the time they got back from the grocery store, they had made their way onto the sofa, finishing the beef ramen Sokka had cooked for them. He’d vowed to himself, in the limited time Zuko lives with him, he was going to force that boy to eat something even remotely nutritious. 

Zuko shrugs, his mouth full of noodles. “What’s the problem?”

Sokka flips through the vinyls in rapid succession. “‘ _Les Misérables: The Dream Cast In Concert, Les Misérables: The 25th Anniversary, Les Misérables: The Staged Concert.”_

“I like musical theatre—“

_“‘Love Amongst The Dragons: 10th Anniversary, Love Amongst The Dragons: Reworked, Love Amongst The Dragons: This Time With More Dragons.”_

“I really like musical theatre.” 

Sokka lets out an exasperated sound and throws himself back onto the sofa; which so happens to be the perfect opportunity for Druk to jump onto his stomach, demanding affection. Sokka sits back up and lets one of his hands slide through the soft fur, while the other continues commentating through Zuko’s vinyl collection. 

He can’t stop smiling. It feels like tonight has made him realise how familiar Zuko is to him, with every laugh, every comeback, every word spoken between them; it’s like he’s remembering who Zuko is to him again and again. He doesn’t want it to end. 

“Showtunes, showtunes— hey wait a minute, what’s this?” He pauses. “Is this a vinyl for _Star Wars: A New Hope?”_ He turns the vinyl over to examine it; its rough along the edges and the cover displaying the Death Star has notably faded. Sokka has never seen anything like it before. “Zuko is this an original edition?” He asks, bringing the vinyl back to Zuko’s gaze. 

Zuko coxes his head slightly to examine it himself. “Yeah, I think so.” Shrugging his shoulders and going back to eating his ramen, like he didn’t have a priceless artifact Sokka would kill for. 

Sokka’s eyes widen slightly. He doesn’t realise he’s stopped stroking Druk until the cat fidgets for release. He lets him go, not before turning his attention to Zuko. “Dude - how much did this cost? And since when were you a secret Stars Wars fan? I thought you hated it.” 

“I never said I hated it,” Zuko says, rolling his eyes and placing his ramen to one side. “Just that I found it boring.” 

Sokka wants to argue that there isn’t much of a difference, but he’s too busy trying to wrap his head around the fact that his best friend - certified theatre nerd with taste that Sokka found questionable at best - has a first pressing Star Wars vinyl. 

“So why do you have this then?” 

Zuko bites his lip, he pauses slightly as if to consider his next words. “It was when we first moved in together and you wouldn’t stop talking about it,“ he says, keeping his eyes on the vinyl. He shakes his head, his voice bubbling over with partial fondness. “Seriously-- I thought you were speaking a different language for the first month.” 

Sokka also remembers that time as well, how they both danced around each other with careful precision of awkward politeness and stilted conversation. It wasn’t until Sokka said enough was enough and decided to just throw Zuko into the deep end of his personality filled with Star Wars references and bad one-liners, they finally began to enjoy being around one another. 

“I wanted to see why you liked it so much,” Zuko says softly it’s practically a whisper, a blush rising in his cheeks. “And I really wanted you to like me, so I guess I bought it because it reminded me of you.” 

Sokka feels warmth erupt in the pit of his stomach at Zuko’s confession. If you asked Sokka, he’d say he was someone who just blended into the background with no real significance. 

So, the thought of Zuko noticing him, seeing him, makes him feel a certain type of way he can’t quite work out. 

They gaze at each other for as long as it takes a grain in an hourglass; or a water droplet from a leaky sink. 

Sokka clears his throat. “What’s the verdict then?” He says, in a way he hopes comes across as nonchalant. “Good? Bad? Favourite song?” 

Zuko doesn’t take his eyes off him. “It’s actually the vinyl I listen to the most,” He says, and Sokka finds himself suddenly gripping the vinyl even more. “And it’s not its own song, but _Binary Sunset_ is my favourite.” 

Sokka nods, he won’t say it out loud but that’s his favourite too. 

“I can’t believe it took us six years for me to admit that you might actually have good taste Zuks.” He says, continuing rummaging through the vinyls. “Wait a minute - I take it back.” He says, holding a vinyl soundtrack for Cats (2019). 

Zuko leans over to playfully shove him, and Sokka tries to ignore the goosebumps that erupt onto his skin when they touch. 

* * *

A few hours has passed since their last conversation, both of them lounging on the cramped sofa side by side, with only a woollen blanket between them, keeping them insulated from the apparent draft of the apartment. There is a silence; a silence you can only find with someone you trust and a part of Sokka regrets breaking it, he can’t remember the last time he felt this at ease around just one person like he does with Zuko. 

“I forgot to mention, I think we should set up some ground rules.” Sokka says, interrupting whatever nameless soap opera of the week they were watching, 

Zuko turns his gaze towards Sokka, his eyes static. “...Ground rules?” 

Sokka shrugs. “Yeah, y’know just what we’re comfortable with each other, like if one of us wants to pick up a girl-- or guy,” He quickly clarifies, motioning his hands to Zuko, who just looks back at him with a confused expression. “We should have a plan of action. I suggest we do what we did in college and put a sock on the doorknob to let the other person know we’re - erm - busy.” 

He’s expecting Zuko to agree with him, but it seems he’s recalibrating something in his mind; because he looks away, clenching his jaw. “I’m not bringing a guy home, Sokka.” 

And maybe it's the way he says the word, ‘home’, that makes it feel like he’s been hit by a freight truck. It wasn’t like Zuko was wrong - it was his home too, even with the limited time he was going to be there. Sokka knew this. It’s just, the way the word left his lips made it sound like the cramped, dull apartment was something personal, something sacred only between them. 

The ring on his finger shines amber.

“What- Why?” He says, believing Zuko’s reluctance is coming from a familiar place of insecurity about his scar. “You’re a really good-looking guy and—“ his eyes immediately widen at what he’s just said out loud. 

Where did that come from? 

If Zuko notices his slip up, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he just looks frustrated. “Look, you can do what you want,” He states, all urgency. “I just don’t feel comfortable bringing a guy home when I’m already married.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like this means anything.” 

Sokka instantly regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth, because there is a flicker of something in Zuko’s look. He can’t tell if it’s anger or hurt or defeat, and then he says, “Actually, Sokka, the state of Nevada would disagree with you,” Pausing to close his eyes, and release a heavy sigh before continuing. “Because like it or not, we’re married. Very married. I said a vow, and no matter how fake this,” He quickly raises his hand revealing the identical mood ring on his finger. “Is - doesn’t mean I’m just going to break it.”

Sokka considers this for a moment, before raising his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have pushed. You’re taking it the old fashioned way, I support it,” He says, “I just...don’t want you to feel you have to put your life on hold because of me—” 

“This isn’t because of you.” Zuko interrupts, all clenched jaw and fists. “It’s just-- growing up and seeing my mom...how my father used to just cheat on her any chance he got…like she didn’t mean anything. How it affected her-” He pauses. Shaking his head, as if he is trying to ignore the sudden images of unwanted memories. “--I promised myself I wouldn’t be like that - that I wouldn’t _be like him.”_

Sokka nods his head slowly. He’s aware of the gravity, the impact an asshole like Ozai has had on every aspect of Zuko’s life - but with each new shitty detail Zuko tells him, it makes him despise Ozai in a way he didn’t know he was capable of 

“Zuko,” He says in a tone he hopes translates to _look at me please_. Zuko seems to pick up on it as he turns his attention back to Sokka. “You could never be like that scumbag - even if you tried.” 

And he truly means it - with every fiber of his being; because he says it like there is a part of him that wants Zuko to know, intrinsically know, that he’ll repeat the same sentiment so many times, under so many variations; until he finally accepts it himself. 

However, It seems that today isn’t the case, because Zuko just scoffs, and continues to fumble with the ends of the blanket. “What makes you so sure?” He keeps his gaze downwards. 

”Well for one, I wouldn’t marry Ozai even if I was completely shitfaced.”

And then there's butterflies in his chest when Zuko infectious laugh fills the apartment.

He’s still laughing when he turns his gaze to him, and says: “I don’t know about that, you’re not yourself when you’re drunk.” 

Sokka’s forehead wrinkles at this, because did that mean Zuko remembered something from that night they got married?

He’s still looking at Zuko even though his attention is now back on to the TV. He wants to ask him. He wants to say the words out loud: _tell me, please. I want to know everything. I want to know why._ But there is also a part of him - a bigger part - that’s scared of what he’ll hear, of what he’ll find out; so, he doesn’t. He turns away; looking instead to the wooden clock planted on the wall. 

“It’s getting late, we should probably go to bed.” He says, leaving the sofa which fills the apartment with creaking noises from the cheap, wooden floorboards. He expects to hear echoes of movement follow behind him, but when he hears nothing but silence, he turns back to Zuko; who hasn’t moved from the sofa. “You coming?” 

A new type of silence washes over them. 

“That’s another thing...I think I’m going to stay on the sofa for now.” Zuko says, a weird infliction in his voice. 

Sokka arches his brow a fraction. ‘You’re joking right? This is a joke,” He says, expecting Zuko to finally get up from the sofa. When it becomes apparent he isn’t going anywhere, Sokka outwardly groans. “Okay, celibacy I can get behind-- but you developing back problems wasn’t part of the plan Zuko.”

Zuko rolls his eyes. “I’ll be fine, besides, it’s a sofa bed, it doubles up as a bed. That’s the point.” He gets up to frantically take apart the sofa in a way that tells Sokka he’s been thinking about this idea for a while. Probably before he even moved in. 

“More like a bed of rocks,” Sokka grumbles, eyeing the rickety looking sofa. “I don’t get it; we’ve slept in the same bed before.”

“And look where that’s got us,” Zuko says, and well, Sokka can’t argue with that. “Sokka, it’s like you said: ‘ground rules’ we need boundaries between us, before we figure out how we’re going to play the whole ‘living together’ thing.” 

“Yeah ground rules that don’t result in you needing physical therapy when all this is over,” He tries to reason. “But if that’s what you want—“

“It is.” 

“Then I won’t push you.” 

“Thanks.”

He goes to grab a duvet set from his bedroom cupboard, handing it to Zuko. “Just...know that my bedroom door is always open for you— “ his eyes widen at the possible implications of his words. “—If you find yourself wanting to sleep on a stable surface.” 

Zuko nods evenly at the exchange, whispering his thanks. Sokka turns to leave, ignoring the feeling of disproportionate rejection he doesn’t quite understand, as he makes his way into his bedroom. 

_I guess we’re not going to be like how we were during college_ , he thinks bitterly. Finally collapsing onto his bed and letting the sensation of cold sheets engulf him. Alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: omg there's only one bed trope  
> Zuko: *reverse uno card*  
> Me: ffs 
> 
> also side note: I did wayy to much research into herbal tea and it's sexual benefits for this chapter, so I hope you all appreciated it lol

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, Kudos and comments are always welcome and v encourage
> 
> I also have a [Link tumblr](https://zukkacomrade.tumblr.com/) if you want to come and talk to me about this story or just anything in general:)
> 
> p.s please be nice I have a pisces moon


End file.
